


night of terrors

by ashings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apologies, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Exhaustion, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Ramen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashings/pseuds/ashings
Summary: the inherent eroticism of awkwardly waiting for ramen to cook with your primary school bully/archnemesis
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	night of terrors

**Author's Note:**

> a brief content warning: there is one throwaway line about wanting to die, it is never explored or examined in detail, and is quite mild and used in a context of embarrassment. just be careful, if you prefer to avoid that sort of thing :))

It’s now past 9:30 pm, and Harry hasn’t eaten anything today (except for perhaps the protein bar he scarfed down before his 8 am lab). The library is still just as quiet. The only sounds are the mind numbingly irritating tapping of MacBook keyboards, a few occasional crinkling wrappers, and the noise in Harry’s ear that’s been ringing since he started this project. Paper. Thing. He doesn’t even remember what it is at this point, much less what he’s supposed to be doing.

A long, slender finger reaches over and taps at his green Poundland notebook.

“Have you finished researching yet?”

What is Malfoy doing here?

Oh, right. Project partner. Paper partner. Classmate. Someone. 

Harry’s stomach rumbles just loudly enough that Malfoy may have heard. “Um.”

“Are you alright?” Malfoy asks. 

Harry looks up at him, his strange, strange face. “Dunno.”

“You look faint.” 

Harry blinks slowly. “And?”

It would be very unlike the Malfoy Harry knew to ask him if he needs a break.

“Do you need a break?”

“Um.” He blinks again, and tries to put his pen down. It doesn’t work. 

Is he going to cry in front of his primary school bully/archnemesis? Good lord.

He looks up at Malfoy, and maybe there are actually tears in his eyes, because Malfoy sighs and starts shoveling his books into his bag. 

“You look like you need therapy.”

“Thanks?” Harry says. “What on god’s green earth are you doing?”

“Look, we’re going to be here for a good long while, and you already look like absolute shite, as I’ve mentioned. You need a break before you faint and I have to bring you to A&E.”

“Oh.” Harry sits there for a few moments. “You don’t have to drive me, you can just call an ambulance.”

“What are you waiting for, you absolute prick? Move. Pack up.” Malfoy is standing there across the table, a peculiar look on his face that Harry quite honestly doesn’t have enough calories in his body to decipher. His eyes look pointy.

He figures it’s not that hard for grey eyes to look pointy, though.

Harry haphazardly chucks his belongings into his rucksack, and stands up so fast that he stumbles a little, vision blacking. After a second, he registers a firm hand on his bicep, the one that isn’t clutching his chair. Malfoy’s hand.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he asks, not moving. Harry tilts his head.

“Technically, no.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.”

Harry diligently follows Malfoy down the staircase and out onto the streets of London. The wind does feel nice, and he can feel his hair shifting in the breeze, but he’s feeling more faint by the minute.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Shop,” Malfoy calls over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

Sure enough, they stop at a corner shop a few blocks later, and Malfoy turns to face Harry on the sidewalk just outside the door.

“Sit,” he says, pointing at a bench. 

“No.”

Malfoy huffs, and they both head into the shop. 

“What are we getting?” Harry whispers.

“Ramen.” He, once again, doesn't bother turning around.

Harry knows he should probably be getting something a little more nutritious, considering his empty water bottle and the fact that his vision is starting to blur at the edges. He just doesn’t _want_ to though, a good cup of shin ramen would _really_ hit the spot, and he can just buy a pack of celery or something.

That’s a thing, right?

“Why are you thinking so hard?” Malfoy says quietly. Harry didn’t even register him turning to face him, or how long he’d been looking at him like that. Less sharp.

Harry blinks, and turns to look at the solid wall of ramen in front of them. Half of it is Maruchan. _Unfortunate_ , Harry thinks to himself. He grabs a cup of Shin ramen, and glances at Malfoy, who is plucking a bowl of instant chicken noodles.

Without thinking, Harry grabs the package out of his hands and shoves it back onto the wall.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You can’t say you’re going to get ramen and then get instant chicken noodles. I know we’re English, but you have to have at least some culture.” 

Malfoy just looks at him.

“At least get chicken Maruchan,” Harry pleads.

Why is he so emotionally invested in Malfoy’s ramen eating habits?

“Fine,” Malfoy grumbles. “You absolute nutter.”

They stand in line together, and Harry’s not gone enough to deny how bloody awkward this is.

The checkout lady halfheartedly waves the next customer forward, and Harry steps with Malfoy to check out before Malfoy gives him another odd look.

“Pay for your own ramen, you pillock.”

 _It’s literally a pound_ , Harry almosts protests, before astral projecting out of his body to take a good look at how stupid he is. 

A tired, noodle-like boy from Harry’s apartment building joins him in line, and maybe he wants to die. A little bit.

Malfoy waits for him to pay by the coffee machines, and they take turns filling their instant cups with boiling water.

“Where are we gonna eat?” Harry asks, accidentally dipping his finger into his ramen for a split second. “Fuck.”

“I dunno, a bench?”

Harry glances at Malfoy again, and somehow it’s just a little bit harder to look away. He almost overflows his cup with the boiling water.

They exit the shop together, and both beeline for the bench halfway between them and the next block. 

“Did you set a timer?” Malfoy asks, handing Harry a plastic fork with one hand and holding the lid to his cup down with the other.

“Why the bloody hell would I set a timer?” 

“How else are you going to know when it’s finished cooking?”

Harry almost snorts. Almost. “It’s not a science, Malfoy, it’s an art. A feeling. A vibe.”

Malfoy stares at him.

“You just know,” Harry continues. “Besides, some of it’s always still crunchy if you use a timer.”

Malfoy doesn’t respond.

Harry doesn’t blame him.

So they sit there, each with one hand on the lids of their ramen cups that are resting on the wood of the bench. Harry is sitting cross-legged, facing Malfoy, he realizes. Malfoy just has one leg on the seat, resting his head in his hand balancing off of his knee. He’s wearing a grey jumper, he notices. It’s a similar shade to his eyes, or it would be, but the darkness of the night makes them look a bit closer to black. 

“Can I be honest?” Harry asks after a few seconds of silence. 

Those grey eyes are on his, now.

“I sort of forgot what the project is.”

“You’re joking,” Malfoy says. He shakes his head, and Malfoy starts laughing, somehow.

He’s never seen him laugh, let alone like this. It’s all- free. His head is thrown back a bit, and his hair is spilling over onto the collar of his jumper, and it looks soft. Like he could run his hands through it.

Harry’s glasses are starting to fog up, and it takes a moment to push the thought of his hands in Malfoy’s hair out of his head to notice. Notice that he accidentally let go of the ramen lid, and now all the steam is escaping.

“Shit,” he mutters, ducking over to close the lid again. He opens it again, peering in to look at the noodles. “Noodles’re ready.”

Malfoy is still chuckling as he sticks his fork into his noodles, mixing in the brown powder. Harry is mixing his powder into his own ramen, and the red hot color of it is making him drool.

He licks his lips.

“Good god,” Malfoy says, and Harry looks up at him. Malfoy’s noodles are halfway to his mouth, and his eyes are wide on Harry’s broth. “That looks....”

“If I’m not shitting literal liquid magma later, it wasn’t a good ramen experience,” Harry says cheerfully, before his smile stops in its tracks. “Wait, what did I just say?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Malfoy says, raising his noodles into his mouth. “Honestly, you’re still just as bloody unhinged as you were the day I transferred.”

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, honestly, that’s about right. But only because I haven’t eaten or drank anything today, plus I’m running on two hours of sleep.”

Malfoy stops chewing. “I just gave you three weeks worth of sodium.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, raising his own noodles to his mouth. “Mpf.”

“Uh, about that.” He looks up at Malfoy again. He’s put his fork down, and is fidgeting with his sleeves and staring straight ahead. “Sorry, you know.”

“Huh?”

“For being rude to you in primary school, I guess.” Harry puts his own fork down.

“I’m very curious as to what could inspire so much pure, unbridled rage in a ten year old,” he says through a mouth full of ramen. Malfoy glances at Harry for a quick second. 

“Well.” He clears his throat, and Harry swallows.

“Nah, it was rhetorical, mate, don’t worry,” he says. “Just eat your white people ramen.”

Malfoy glares at him. “I’m gonna go buy you a vegetable if you don’t shut the fuck up.” 

Harry grins, and shovels more ramen in his mouth. 

He watches Malfoy for the rest of the night. The silence is just a touch less awkward, and Malfoy grabs his empty bowl to toss it in the bin. They walk back to the library next to each other, and Harry feels just a little bit steadier on his feet.

Malfoy makes him stop and fill his water bottle outside the staircase. He stands a bit too close for Harry to completely concentrate on when to stop the water. He can smell the detergent he uses, and see the little blue flecks in his eyes. 

_This is bad for my health_ , he thinks as they sit down at their table from before. They both unpack their rucksacks in silence, and return to their research.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! i'd love to hear your thoughts :))


End file.
